Please don't cry Hannah
by JaneIsles
Summary: Cuddy takes care of a foster child and isn't prepared for the things that will expect her and House comes to take care of Cuddy and helps her through this...


**Please don't cry Hannah**

I always wanted to have a child. Even when I was young, I dreamed of it. I couldn't imagine anything better than being a mother one day.

Time passed by and I always told myself that I have time to find someone with whom I'd share the rest of my life.

Just like every little girl, I'd have naive imaginations of how my life would be in the future. I was too young and too stupid to understand that it never works like this. I'd always be different.

As time went on, I seemed to have stopped somewhere. Suddenly, I saw everything else passing by and I became scared.

I wake up one day, in my mid-thirties; I'm a successful woman - Dean of Medicine.

I had everything and I should've been happy. I achieved a lot of things and I was quite comfortable. I had everything, but something seemed to be missing.

I was still alone.

I had no one with whom I could share my fortune. No one who would wait for me when I came home. What happened to my dream? What did I do with it? I was disappointed by myself and my own life.

I was so occupied with my job and being the best that I forgot the things that were once so important to me.

I fought with House like every day and I knew I didn't have to do this. I had a lot of good reasons to fire him and it would make everything a little easier, but I also had several good reasons not to fire him.

I needed him and those ridiculous fights. It became a part of my life, just like House.

He was and is still a jerk, but I needed him somehow. I told myself that he'd be there one day when I needed him. I still believed with all my heart that he would change someday.

After desperately trying to become pregnant, I told myself to accept that I'd never have children on my own.

In the beginning, I was hopeful, but then one disappointment followed another and I started to give up.

I started to work harder to forget about all the pain and the rage I'd kept inside of me.

I didn't know how much I already asked this question – probably way too often.

"Why?"  


And how many times did I drive myself insane, because I couldn't find an answer?

I felt stupid, ridiculous and embarrassed at the same time.

I started making fun of it. I said that it wasn't that bad, because I might've been a terrible mother. I didn't have any idea to handle children. Maybe it was better like this.

I started to concentrate on other things in my life, but somehow, I could never let it go completely.

Sometimes, I cried and became that little girl from the past that once had a dream.

Then, one day, I decided that it was time for a change.

I never knew why it happened, it was just there and all of the sudden I decided not to give up so easily again.

This was the day when I was asked to take care of a foster child.

I was so happy in those first moments, I couldn't believe it. Only little by little did I realize the shadows that surrounded this little baby.

I was informed that she was just two days old and didn't even have a name. I found out that her mother gave her away for adoption right after she was born, she didn't even want to see her.

I was pretty optimistic and sure that I'd be able to take care of her in any case and I decided to do it.

They gave me some time to prepare and when it was time to pick her up from the hospital, everything changed.

They told me that I couldn't take her home and I started to worry.

I knew the look on the doctor's face all too well. I knew it from myself, when something was not right. It was a mixture of empathy, sadness, pity and maybe a little bit of guilt.

In the next weeks, my ever so perfect life was shattered down and messed up completely.

They told me that the mother had taken drugs and drank alcohol during the pregnancy and they still didn't know how it had affected to her child.

She was the last one of five children and I couldn't help but ask myself about what had happened to the others. I couldn't stop thinking about it and I prayed that they'd be alright.

The choice was up to me.

I didn't have to care for her anymore if I didn't want to. Or I could take the risk and change my life forever. I still didn't know what to expect, but giving up was out of question.

I decided to take care of her. I knew that I would go through hell some days, but I also knew that it would get better.

At her seventh day of life, I named her Hannah.

I was scared the first time I was allowed to see her.

I spent hours trying to imagine how she would look and when it was finally time to see her, I was afraid.

She was on the intensive care unit and when I saw her in her little bed, so small and fragile, I wanted to cry, but I had to stay strong.

I could do it.

"I'm a doctor, I know how it works," I told myself this and after watching her silently for a while, I felt strong enough.

I always told myself that I'd be a terrible mum again and again, because I didn't have any idea how to handle a child, but when I held her, everything was forgotten.

It seemed to be so easy.

I spent all my time with her and I started to forget about my own life for a while to dedicate it to someone else and this time it didn't feel wrong.

She needed me, just like I needed someone.

Three months passed until I was allowed to take her home. I was nervous and a little afraid.

On my way to the hospital, which I wouldn't enter this time, I thought about the things I gave up in the past.

Most of all, I thought about House and how much calmer my life was without him. I felt relaxed, but I missed him in some way. I remember how I walked past his office several times a day, without a reason, because I knew he was there and didn't want him to forget about me.

Everything was new and everything seemed to be so wonderful. I thought my life was now perfect, but again, everything changed.

Hannah appeared to be very anxious, but I didn't worry. She hadn't had an easy start and maybe she just had to get used to it. I remained positive, but it got worse.

I couldn't leave her alone, because she started to cry and when she was older she didn't even look at others.

She hated being around others and began to scream. I couldn't leave her alone anymore at any place.

She was only calm when I carried her with me, close to my body.

It started in the night; I couldn't switch the lights off completely while I felt her little warm, but so fragile body close to mine. I felt her warmth and her calm breath.

I walked through the silent night for hours and prayed that she'd fall asleep.

Most of the time, she was calm – but just as long as I carried her with me. I was terribly tired, but she needed me, so I went on walking through the nights and at dawn, she felt asleep.

I don't know how long it went on like this.

Sometimes, she'd fall asleep during the day for a few minutes and I thanked God for those short silent moments that appeared to be the most wonderful ones in my life at that time.

Did I make a mistake? What if I made the wrong decision, one that I couldn't handle?

I became more and more desperate, crying silently during her rare moments of sleep. I was so exhausted that I did nothing but sit around praying that she'd sleep a little longer.

Days – maybe even weeks passed by. I felt I had lost track of time - I hardly slept and functioned because that little girl needed me.

In the midst all the desperation, I began to become furious. Furious because of Hannah. Because she wouldn't stop crying, and because of me, and the fact that I couldn't calm her down.

I ignored the thoughts that said that I might have made a mistake.

I didn't want to know that. I didn't want to have made a mistake.

It was late, sometime in the middle of the night. I felt miserable and terribly tired. I didn't bother with checking the time when I heard her crying.

Nothing had changed.

I had a headache and I felt cold. I was empty and exhausted.

I stood beside her bed and looked at her. I wasn't the only one who seemed to be tired and I asked myself why she didn't sleep then. I didn't want to understand her anymore.

I lifted her up and wrapped a little sheet around her so that she wouldn't feel cold. I started to walk through the house slowly and I was shocked when I realized how messy it looked.

It was totally trashed; I didn't have the strength and desire to do anything. It was embarrassing.

"It's okay," I whispered and hoped that she would understand me somehow, but she didn't get any calmer.

She didn't stop crying and in the silence of the night her crying seemed to become louder with every second.

I couldn't think clearly and I felt the fatigue coming up again.

"Come on," I whispered. "Please don't cry Hannah."

I had tears in my eyes when I looked at her and suddenly I couldn't stand her anymore.

I was completely empty even though it made me feel stupid.

"Stop crying," I begged her, but I knew it wouldn't happen. I couldn't stand to hold her in my arms any longer and I laid her down carefully on that soft pillow at the sofa and she still cried.

"Stop it," I screamed, starting to cry myself. "I can't stand it anymore!" I screamed barely able to think.

I laid my face in my hands, leaning against the sofa with my back and sitting on the cold ground while I cried.

I heard her crying, but I didn't care.

I reached out for the phone with my shivering hand. It was the only thing I felt I could do and I hoped, or better said, prayed that someone would help.

I dialed his number and during those terrible seconds that I waited for him to pick up, I prayed that he would be there.

"I need your help," I whispered and ignored her crying. "I don't know what to do, please help me."

I didn't know how much time passed by until I heard a key and for the first time in my life I was glad that he knew where I hid my second key.

I felt the cold on my bare legs when he closed the door. Hannah was still crying.

I couldn't help but sit there; I couldn't even look at him. I still felt ashamed and then I asked myself why the hell I called him. What could he do?

But I didn't really care and to my surprise, he didn't ask or say a word. From the corner of my eye, I saw him walking past me.

I leaned my head back against the sofa; crying and then I realized that there was silence.

She'd stopped crying. At first I thought I was wrong, I still heard her crying in my mind but slowly they got more silent and I grew tired.

I felt how every part in my body hurt and the only thing I wanted was sleep – and that this nightmare would be over soon.

I kept my eyes closed when I heard a door being closed slowly and I realized that someone stood in front of me.

I finally opened my eyes and everything was a bit blurred the first time. I saw his face in front of me and he was calm.

I looked into his eyes and for one single moment I thought he would understand me. Maybe he did but I never realized it, because he used to hide behind something that makes him the man I used to know.

He took my hand and I didn't refuse him when he closed me in his arms very gently; it soothed my pain. I was very thankful and slowly began to relax.

God, how much I missed him, although I never wanted to know it. I missed him more than I thought I would.

My head leaned against his shoulder and I still cried.

"Try to sleep," he whispered and took my hand. I felt very sleepy when he guided me into the bedroom and laid me down on the bed softly.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, put the coverlet on my body and looked at me without a word.

I didn't take a lot of time to fall asleep. I didn't know if I was just dreaming, but I thought he'd placed a soft kiss on my forehead before I finally fell asleep.

All I knew was that it would be over soon, and that I loved Hannah – just like I loved him.


End file.
